There were only a few people then who had settled in this bleak region,
and there was no funeral other than the assembling of a half dozen
together, who dug a grave within fifty feet from the elms, and there
laid the charred remains of the unfortunate victims. I had seen a small,
rough, unlettered stone standing there, but did not before know its
meaning.
The next day I related the bit of tragic history to Christopher Gault,
and we strolled over the hill to its scene.
"What a magnificent view!" he exclaimed, as we came to the place.
Certainly it could not be finer. We stood upon an elevated plateau, from
which the prospect in either direction was beautiful and grand. To the
north could be seen the graceful curves of the Green Mountain range,
gradually growing fainter and of paler blue as the eye followed them to
at least seventy miles away.
Farther to the east rose the majestic form of Monadnock, if not the
highest, one of the very noblest peaks in the Granite State. In an
opposite direction, and nearly one hundred miles from Monadnock, stood
old Greylock, the greatest elevation in Massachusetts; while much nearer
by--in fact, seeming almost at our feet when compared with these immense
ranges--lay the charming Deerfield valley, up from which rose the
curling smoke of the locomotive as it moved steadily westward, until
hidden from view by a sudden entrance into Hoosac Tunnel.
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